


What it Takes to Please You

by TheFaceofaMouse



Series: Ways to Skin a Cat [1]
Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Constraint, Drinking, First Time, M/M, Rimming, Skull Fucking, The devil has a big ol monster demon dick, and dice is like mmm slorp, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 06:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFaceofaMouse/pseuds/TheFaceofaMouse
Summary: here's my first official fic for this ship. I'm in total hell for these guys. Bad.I basically wrote 15 pages of awkward flirting resulting in first-time sex.  Got some positive response on tumblr, so I decided to post it here all official like.Enjoy!check out my nasty tumblr, if you wantwww.sleazeboss.tumblr.com





	What it Takes to Please You

King Dice opens the door to the Devil’s office.

  
“Sir, is this a good time?”

  
The Devil is slumped over his desk, teeth bared as he holds a cigar with his lips. His eyes don’t look up from the ledger he’s consulting.

“Eh,” he answers, unenthusiastic. He seems busy.

“If you don’t got too much work ahead of ya, boss, I was thinking of headin’ to the bar. The floor’s quiet tonight.”

  
He stops writing and looks up to Dice, bearing a wolfish grin. Dice clears his throat as his stomach tightens just so.

 

“Drinking on the job, Dice? Your shift ain’t over until midnight.”

  
King Dice forces a little chuckle.

  
“My shift ain’t ever over.” Dice puts his hand in his pants pocket and leans against the door frame. He chuckles. “Even then, you don’t pay me enough _not_ to drink on the job. Now you comin’, or not?” Dice tilts his head as he tries to size up his boss. He smirks when he thinks he knows the answer.  
  
With a drawn out sigh, he removes the small pair of reading glasses from his face. The Devil puts down his pen, collects the ledger and places it in a locked drawer. He stands up, cigar still hanging from his lips, and crosses to King Dice, who steps aside to let him exit first.  
  
“Come on, ya ungrateful lout. Tell me some more about how I don’t pay you enough.” He beckons the man to follow, and. King Dice smiles to himself as he falls in step close behind. Dice lets the comment slide without much opposition.

  
Together, they make their way down the hall. Tinny, sultry jazz can be heard softly throughout the casino.  
  
“Tell me,” the Devil starts, taking a sharp inhale as he stretches his arms behind him. He clearly welcomes the break from casino busywork. “What could be so upsetting that you’re itching for a drink in the middle of the week?”  
  
“Well, ‘sides the fact that I had to break up a fight between Mango and Wheezy again for the third time this week,” you can practically hear King Dice rolling his eyes from his tone alone, “nothin’ in particular. Just thought a stiff drink sounded real nice.”  
  
“It always does,” the Devil laughs darkly. “S’why there are never a shortage of sinners in Hell, Mr. King.”  
  
Dice trades a look with the Devil, a sinister smile only men in their line of work should wear.  
  
Once at the bar, Martini fixes the two their usual drinks before they’ve even sat down. She sees them walking straight to her and knows the drill. They’re both whiskey guys. Scotch on the rocks for King Dice, and bourbon for the Devil.  
  
The Devil raises his glass for a toast expectantly, and Dice returns the gesture, curious.  
  
“I know you insist there’s no particular occasion, but if you had to pick one, what would you toast to, Mr. King?” The Devil asks with a knowing tone, as if he’s wise to some situation that Dice himself isn’t even aware of.

  
King Dice looks at his drink as he thinks it over.

 

“To another night in the house that always wins.” Dice flashes a wicked smile, and the Devil grins with approval.

 

“I’ll drink to that, Mr. Manager.”

 

They clink glasses. They both drink, suffering their own respective burns as the alcohol sears it’s way down their throats. Dice lets out a hiss.  
  
“We’ve got to get better Scotch...” he says through a grimace, squinting at his glass as if it’s offended him. “This stuff is fiery piss.”  
  
“Eh, I’ll get around to it. For now, ya get what ya get.” After a moment of consideration, the Devil slams the rest of his drink.

“Hey, this ain’t a competition,” Dice side eyes his boss.  
  
“Course not.” He takes a drag from his cigar. “We both know I could drink you under the table.”

 

It’s true. Even without hellish, dark magic, the Devil could consume quite a bit of the stuff before getting sloppy, whereas Dice has to take care if he doesn’t want to be clutching the Devil’s side, dripping off him like sticky, drunken syrup after only a few rounds.

  
“So you’re just flexing, then,” King Dice takes another sip, and he regrets it just as much as the first sip. Yep. Still fiery piss.

  
“You ain’t the only one around here that needs to blow off steam, Dice.” The Devil raises his hand for Martini to bring him another drink, and like the tired professional she is, she’s on it.  
  
King Dice looks the Devil over at that remark.

 

“Actually, boss. If it ain’t too forward of me. That’s sort of why I pulled ya out of the office.”

 

“Ah the truth finally comes out. I thought I hired a much better liar than you, Dice.”

 

Dice ignores the comment. He’s at a disadvantage when it comes to lying to the Devil himself.

 

“Well, sir. I think I just gotta come out n’ say it.”

 

The Devil waits as Dice takes another swig of his drink, for dramatic effect it seems.

 

“How long has it been since you’ve had a good screw?”

 

The Devil raises his brow, but he doesn’t seem offended. More surprised.

 

“You know who you’re talking to, right?”

 

“Sure, yeah, f’course. The prince of darkness. Lord of sin and debauchery n’ all that. I know, I know,” Dice gesticulates with one free, gloved hand. The other holds his drink and swirls it about.

 

The Devil growls, a scowl growing on his face.

 

“What’s it to ya?“

 

“You just sort of went off a little worse than usual the other day. I thought it seemed much, even for you.  So I got to thinking, _what’s got you so riled up?_ And then it hit me.”

 

The Devil’s nostrils flare and he blows smoke out his nose, akin to a dragon. Dice isn’t intimidated, though. He’s seen that trick plenty of times.

 

“You just said it yourself. I know you’ve got a temper, boss, but I also know there’s sort of way ya get when you haven’t had a good hump in a while.”

 

The Devil considers Dice with an unamused look.

 

“I mean men in general, boss. Not just uh, not just you.” King Dice sips his drink more, taking bigger gulps now.

 

“You know a lot about men’s needs, huh?” The Devil asks, but it sounds more like a passive observation than a real question. Dice smiles that same, proud, ear-to-ear grin and gives a shrug.

 

“In some ways, fellas are a little easier to please than the ladies. A little more straight forward.”

 

Martini has been keeping her distance, save for bringing the men their next round when she’s instructed. As Dice finally finishes his first drink, she’s pouring him a second and the Devil his third.

 

“I don’t mean to get too personal with ya, boss. It’s just that, well, as your manager-,”

 

The Devil cuts him off there.

 

“You manage the casino, Dice. Not _me._ ” There’s a dangerous warning in his tone.

 

King Dice is not all that phased, however.

 

“With all due respect, _boss,_ you being the owner makes you a key factor in how this here establishment is run. So, whether ya like it or not, you’re sort of my responsibility on top of everything else in this hell hole. No uh, no pun intended.”

 

The Devil raises an eyebrow at King Dice’s unflappable demeanor.  He cleans something out of his gums with his forked tongue as he dabs away excess ash from his cigar into a nearby ashtray.

 

“All right, then tell me- where in your job description does it say it’s your business to know who and when I screw?”

 

Dice gives a very honest shrug of resignment.

 

“I’ll leave it if you like, boss. I was just comin’ to you as a friend. You may not think so, but I like to think we’re friends, at least.”

 

King Dice waits for the Devil to respond, but the silence that passes between them is all that he gets.

 

They sip their drinks quietly. Martini eventually makes her way back to the duo, and Dice motions for her to top the boss off and scram. Dice himself is done drinking for the night. Anything more and he might slip up and say something he can’t recover from.

 

“Round of cards?” King Dice offers. He sees that the Devil isn’t going to offer him much more in the way of conversation.

 

“Nah. Billiards.” The Devil squishes out the stump of his cigar and turns to leave his seat. Dice follows behind, dutifully.

 

The silence follows them to the billiard room. That’s part of why they like each other’s company so much. King Dice is paid to talk for a living.  Every day he makes pointless small talk with every unknowing soul that passes through Hell’s Casino. He uses all his wiles and charm to convince people they should spend more money, more time, more energy. Until they’re stuck here for eternity. It’s tiring work.

 

It’s a relief to just be with his own thoughts. Solitude is welcome at the end of the day, and to be able to share that solitude with someone who _gets it._ Who doesn’t need to fill the void with with mindless jabber. Someone smart, and wise, and mysterious…

 

Suffice it to say he enjoys the Devil’s company. A lot.

 

After a few shots in, the tension between them has softened just enough where they can make passing remarks at each other after a poor shot.

 

“Maybe if you didn’t chug your bourbon you’d be able to hit solids, boss.” Dice is smiling as he makes his observation.

 

“Put one of your fancy socks in it, Dice.” He says as he makes another terrible shot. He frowns.

 

The puts his pool cue down with a huff. He makes a motion with his hand, manifesting a black cigar box. He opens it, and his nostrils flare as he finds the darn thing is empty. He growls.

 

“I thought I told you to fill this thing.”

“I did, boss. Just this morning.” King Dice doesn’t look up as he takes his own shot. He manages to sink a stripe.

 

After a quizzical look, the Devil squints and rubs his temples. He snaps, and the useless little box disappears in a billow of black, shadowy smoke.

 

“Here. Have one of mine.” King Dice sets his pool cue aside as well, reaching into his lapel to procure what his boss is looking for. “Really going through em these days, huh?”

 

The Devil grumbles something under his breath. Dice offers him the cigar, and the Devil, who is now chalking up his pool cue, goes to take the cigar from Dice’s hand with his mouth.  His lips wrap around it, and Dice only realizes he’s holding on too long when his boss makes eye contact with him.

 

“Here, ah- allow me..”

 

Dice lets go, recovering quickly by searching his pockets for a lighter. He lights the stick for his boss, who has not broken eye contact. The Devil inhales deeply, his fiery, vibrant eyes trapping Dice in an intimate gaze. At least it feels intimate. King Dice isn’t sure what the Devil is trying to see in him, but he seems to be searching him all the same. For all Dice knows, he could be using ancient magic to look into the space where his soul should be, and see his deepest desires.

 

He hopes that isn’t the case.  He’s already feeling his face light up with heat.

 

“How does it taste?” Dice asks in a private, quiet voice.

 

The Devil slowly, deliberately takes the cigar out of his mouth with two fingers in a V, and exhales fully after that long drag. He has yet to unlock eyes with King Dice.

 

“It’s good,” the Devil finally speaks. He considers the cigar in his hand. “It tastes like you.”

 

Dice’s stomach flips.

 

“Like me?” Dice isn’t sure if he heard that right.

 

“Your cologne. I can taste it.” He takes another long drag. “Mmm,” he hums. “I like it.

 

“Oh, my. Glad to hear it, boss.” King Dice feels his whole body burn up now.

 

The Devil steps closer, leaning in, taking care to hold the lit cigar away from Dice’s tux. He breathes in at the collar of his shirt.

 

“I’ve always liked that smell. All the years I’ve known you, you’ve never changed it.”  The Devil is now sending out some very, very clear signals, and Dice isn’t sure if it’s real. He could be having a fever dream, or maybe Mangosteen slipped him something sinister earlier and it’s finally taking effect.

 

However, the all-too-real scent of the Devil’s whiskey-breath just below Dice’s chin, and the heat of his presence _so close_ to him, is absolutely, undeniably real.

 

“Boss, are you drunk?” Dice asks quietly. No need to speak louder than a whisper when the man you’ve been lusting after is inches away from you. His eyes are half lidded, and his heart is pounding so hard his chest almost closes the space between them with each thump.

 

“Hardly,” he licks his lips, his gaze flitting between King Dice’s lips and his eyes. “I could be. Is that the only way you’d sleep with me?”

 

“What? No, of course not. Boss. _Sir.”_

 

“What’s the matter, then? Don’t you want to fool around?” The Devil starts to play with Dice’s lapel, taking it between his fingers and sliding them along the fabric. “Isn’t that why you were being so damned nosey, earlier?”

 

Dice has to laugh at himself.

 

“I was being painfully obvious, wasn’t I? Not my best work, I’ll admit.”

 

“So what’s holding you back,” the Devil asks pointedly.

 

Dice takes a moment to mull it over. He raises a hand to meet the Devil’s. A tentative, gentle touch at first. He caresses the back of the Devil’s strong, bony hands with his knuckles.  He holds the Devil’s hand in his, brings it to his lips. Breathes him in. Places a small, encompassing peck on the back of his hand.

 

“I’ll stop holding back, if that’s what you want.”

 

“Seduce me already, you sleazy bastard,” the Devil almost _growls_ those words.

 

“I hope you aren’t pokin’ fun, boss...”

 

“I’m not.” The Devil has now pressed himself flush against Dice. He can feel the heat of the Devil’s fur through his tuxedo. King Dice’s body tenses up.  He’s lacking his characteristic confidence. The Devil furrows his brow.

 

“You changin’ your mind on me?”

 

“No, not at all,” Dice says, his breathing is uneven.

 

“Are you scared of me?”

 

Dice pauses with a guilty grin.

 

“A little.”

 

The Devil smiles at that.

 

“That’s probably wise, Mr. King Dice.”  He smoothes out Dice’s lapel, and is now rubbing at his chest.

 

“Ain’t nothing wise about me, sir.” Dice finally works up the nerve to snake a hand up the front of his boss’ chest. He grabs a tuft of the fur there, and even through his gloves he can tell it’s soft and thick.

 

“You’re gonna regret this,” the Devil warns.

 

“What’s the point of havin’ fun if there ain’t a little risk in it?” Dice smirks. “Have some faith in me. Let me please you.” King Dice can’t help the amount of desperation dripping from his mouth. He’s talking with his cock now, the object of his desire so close to being his.

 

Despite his better judgement, he wants this _bad._

 

The Devil takes one more puff of his cigar.

 

“Please me, huh?” He exhales in Dice’s face, who, despite the burn, finds himself breathing in the essence of that smoke like a euphoric drug. His eyes flutter at the sting, but Dice is still licking his lips and letting his mouth hang open in want.

 

“Yeah. Wanna treat you right, boss.”

 

“Show me,” says the Devil.

 

_Finally._

 

King Dice accepts the invitation.  He reaches up to grab his boss’ face, cupping his jaw in both hands. Pulls him into a strong, deep kiss. It’s smokey and tastes like alcohol, and a bitter, ashy taste he’s unfamiliar with. But that doesn’t deter him. The Devil seems to like the enthusiasm, as he’s wrapping his arms tightly around King Dice’s waist and back, pulling him as close as possible.

 

The Devil groans, and when Dice finally pulls away, it’s apparent that these two need to retreat to the bedroom. Fast. Nothing a little Devil-magic can’t remedy.

 

Their game of pool long abandoned, the two exchange knowing looks. With a wave of the Devil’s clawed hand, an all-black hole spreads from the floor. It’s a portal.  He pulls Dice into his chest and allows himself to fall backward, descending into the black void with Dice in tow.

 

They land on a springy, impossibly comfortable, royal-red bed. The Devil is on his back, and King Dice is on top of him.

 

Dice lifts himself up by his arms to look down at the beastly man beneath him. The Devil is looking up at him with a needy frown. He’s biting his lips, and Dice can swear his teeth have changed. They’re sharp, monster-like, not those deceitfully flat molars he used to seeing on the casino floor. The Devil must be letting himself go, and it’s getting Dice going.

 

King Dice presses their mouths together again. Open mouthed. Hot. Heavy, heavy kisses that are littered with deep growls and grunts. He’s tearing off his jacket in the spare moments he can find and tossing it to the floor.

 

The Devil has taken to making this terribly distracting motion with his hips. He arches his back, a wave of undulation that flows down his spine and ends with his groin rubbing up into Dice’s. It seems he’s just as needy for this as Dice is.

 

The Devil’s anatomy continues to adapt and change below Dice. He’s growing all over. First it was just the teeth, now his tongue is hanging out of his mouth in all it’s sick, forked glory. His eyes are feral slits. Claws have doubled in size.  A bright, slick cock grows from a slit through his fur. It’s an impressive size, especially by Dice’s experienced standards.

 

King Dice is salivating for it.

 

His stomach is tight with tension. As he takes note of each monstrous aspect of his boss, his spine shivers with fear and delight.

 

“God damn,” Dice breathes.

 

He moves his attention down to that magnificent, shiny cock.

 

“Whadya think?” The Devil’s voice is deep and breathy.

 

“Amazing. Wanna suck you off, boss,” Dice’s voice shudders. He’s unsure if he can fit it all in his mouth, and it’s making him so hard it hurts.

The Devil fucking _whines,_ and Dice takes that as the sign to start. He’s so wrapped up that’s he hasn’t even bothered to take his gloves off. He holding that big, demonic cock with both hands, gives it a few strokes just to get familiar with it. It’s more malleable than he expected.  The lovely shine is definitely coming from a natural lubrication. He’ll worry about his surely-ruined gloves later.

 

Dice takes the Devil into his mouth, one slow, deliberate motion. He really wants to taste it. Experience it. Learn what it’s like to feel his boss in his mouth like this. Right now, he can barely make it past the midpoint. (He’ll work up to it, though.)  The taste is nondescript, fleshy. Too slick to have a musk to it. It’s pleasant.  Dice could do this for hours, he thinks.

 

The Devil can’t contain himself. While Dice is trying to savor the moment, the Devil is writhing and impatient. More groans and whines from above. It’s doing wonders for Dice’s ego.

 

He’s working up a rhythm, finding a groove with his bobbing head. The Devil props himself up by his elbows. Dice opens his eyes to make sure the Devil is watching. The boss cocks his head. One ear twitches as he grimaces. Dice is holding the base of his cock, making small circular passes with his thumb. The more his lips slide up and down the Devil’s shaft, the more saliva and lubrication collects and dribbles down along his fingers.

 

“Not bad.  Not bad at all,” his boss comments. His words sound more collected than his body language is belying.  Dice presses his tongue along the underside of the Devil’s cock. Slowly pulls up off his dick with a proud smile as his only response. Swallows some excess drool before returning to work. He sinks all the way down, taking the Devil’s full length into his mouth.  It effortlessly slides down the back of his throat, and the Devil throws his head back.

 

Dice thinks he’s made a power move. Thinks he’s rendered his boss useless. But the Devil grabs hold of his head, and Dice feels those razor sharp claws threatening to squeeze too tight and cut him if he makes a wrong move. He’s holding his skull in place firmly.  His breath hitches, and his throat clenches around the boss’ cock. He moans, and the Devil raises his hips in one slow thrust up into Dice’s face. Dice squints up at his boss in annoyance, and the Devil just gives an amused chuckle.

 

The Devil humps Dice’s face, raising his hips off the bed in calm but powerful moves. King Dice’s arms are outstretched, holding him in place to let his boss just go for it. He hits the back of his throat over and over,and Dice syncopates his breathing so that he’s inhaling through fur and musk and sex. He’s lost in it. Doesn’t even notice the way his eyes are beginning to water.

 

The Devil is growling, his eyes squeezed closed. With an exasperated huff, he pulls out of his manager’s mouth.  Dice wipes his lips with the back of his hand, jaw still hanging open. He’s only a little sore.

 

“Need more,” the Devil admits.

Dice is already unbuttoning his vest and shirt.  He pulls off his bow tie in a practiced, single movement.  The Devil is panting heavy, labored breaths, and then something happens.

 

The boss sits up.  Grabs Dice like he weighs _nothing_ and trades places with him. Throws him into the bed so that he’s lying beneath him. Dice had only managed to open his shirt part of the way.  With his claws (which Dice notices are _trembling_ ) the Devil fumbles to unbutton his manager’s pants and tear them off.  Pulls off the tacky, heart-patterned boxers as well. Dice’s eyes are wide as he watches this feral beast tower over him.

 

His body is almost unrecognizable now.

 

His horns are longer. A second pair of arms rise from his side, grabbing Dice by the wrists. King Dice gasps, and that noise bleeds into a a grateful moan. With his free hands, the Devil spreads Dice’s legs open, his proud cock straining out in the open.  The Devil’s hands are now big enough to nearly wrap completely around Dice’s thighs. He grabs hold, raises his ass off the bed.  Spreads his cheeks, opening him up, and Dice is trying hard not to clench himself closed.  His whole body is making pulses and twitches he’s not used to. He breathes deep. Deep as he can.

 

The Devil stares him down.  Impatient eyes intimidate his manager. The Devil’s long tongue falls from his mouth, dripping saliva.  He drools over Dice’s ass, onto his hole.  The slick stuff is thick and slippery, like the coating on his cock. Dice shudders in awe as the hot mess drips all over his body.  He swears he can see steam wafting from the Devil’s mouth.

 

“Open up for me,” the big boss commands.

 

“I- I want to,” Dice sounds sorry.

 

The Devil growls.  He licks a stripe up Dice’s ass, the cruel bastard completely ignoring his raging hard on. Dice sighs desperately.  Has to squeeze his eyes shut to _try_ and relax and let his boss in.  The more the Devil’s tongue passes at his entrance, the gooey saliva feeling better and better with each lap, he can feel himself opening up, and that snake-like tongue finally presses into him. It invades him deeply when it enters, and he calls out with a horny cry.

 

“Fuck,” Dice chokes.

 

The Devil’s tongue is only there for a few necessary thrusts.  Once Dice is slicked-up and shaking, the Devil brings that massive cock to his entrance. He doesn’t press in yet. He brings his towering frame closer to Dice’s face.

 

“Look at me,” he says.

 

Dice obeys, opening his eyes.  He’s trembling with anticipation. His dick is leaking precum, and he’s sweating from the fur and the heat of the moment.

 

With the same intense look from before, the Devil bores that grotesque stare into Dice’s psyche.  He presses his cock into Dice’s ass.

 

It’s so fucking big.

 

Dice _wails_ , his body arching and aching from the strain. He wasn’t nearly stretched enough, but there’s just enough give to the Devi’s dick that it’s at least a little forgiving.  The sheer size is filling him all the way to his limit.

 

King Dice is an incoherent mess beneath his boss.

 

The Devil breathes a sigh of relief.  This contact seems to be what he needed.  He hasn’t even begun thrusting yet. The pressure alone is something worth cherishing.

 

From here on, there are no more words. Dice is looks up at his Devil with recognition of his power over him. The Devil is lost to another form, not only physically, but mentally.

 

There seems to be some shred of humanity left.  The Devil withdraws carefully, then fills Dice back up again as deliberately as he can.  This time, Dice is more prepared for the feeling.  After two more thrusts, he can appreciate how that fat demonic cock is passing against his prostate _so_ nicely.  Something about its curvature is hitting him perfectly, and before he even thinks to _ask_ the Devil for more, he’s going for it. Pounding into him.  Untamed.  No hesitation. The Devil is humping into him with quick, rapid thrusts, and Dice is yelping out broken moans.

 

“Ah, ah,” he cries over and over.

 

He’s so close to coming, but the friction just isn’t there.  If the Devil would help him at all, just a little touch, he would be undone. But it doesn’t happen. Tears of frustration begin to well up in his eyes.  He tries to move.  Tries to bring his hand down to pump his own cock, but the second he moves against the Devil’s grasp, the big boss clamps down on him with an iron grip.

 

The Devil snarls. King Dice moans.

 

The sensation is overwhelming. Dice can tell the Devil is getting close to his release. He’s not gonna last long if he keeps that pace up. King Dice needs to do _something_ to relieve himself.

 

He strains his head up for a kiss. The Devil obliges.  He laves his tongue over his mouth and lips before pushing its way into his mouth. It slithers around Dice’s tongue in a truly nasty way that makes Dice sob into the Devil’s jaw.

 

King Dice grips the Devil’s tongue with his teeth. He doesn’t bite. But he’s got his attention.

 

“Touch me, damn it,” Dice hisses.

 

The Devil raises his brow, shocked. He laughs darkly.

 

Dice can’t tell how merciful the Devil is feeling. This is all so new to him.  So unfamiliar.

 

While he’s left wondering, waiting. Hoping for contact, the Devil surprises him once more.  His long, grotesque tongue slide down King Dice’s chest.  Past the tuft of wiry chest hair.  Passes his nipples a few times. That alone has Dice chewing on his lip. Then finally. Fucking _finally_ he’s entangling Dice’s cock in his slippery tongue.  Like the tentacle of a sea creature, it constricts and squeezes Dice’s erection tightly.  It’s an odd sensation, and it’s almost too slick to be gratifying, but the combination of it all. Being fucked hard and fast and deep.  His prostate engaged. His movement restricted.  His dick finally gaining some purchase.

 

Dice throws his head back in ecstasy, and he’s moaning so beautifully that the Devil can’t hide the hellish smile on his face.

 

The Devil comes first, his eyes screwed shut as he fucking howls around his own tongue,  pumping Dice’s ass full with thick, hot ooze.  He pulls out, come spilling out Dice and onto the bed below.

 

The rush of heat pouring out his ass makes Dice come.  So hard it shoots up, onto his chest. Onto the Devil’s chest. Onto the Devil’s tongue…

 

It’s a mess.

 

 _They_ are a mess.

 

Just as soon as it all began, it’s over.  The Devil has released his death-grip on his manager. Dice’s ass hits the bed with an audible _smack_ against the pool of liquid below. The Devil collapses next to him, breathing with his mouth open.  Dice rests the back of his hand on his face, which he only just notices is bleeding now. The Devil must’ve sliced him in his fury without either of them noticing.

 

They both take this moment to catch their breath.  To stop gasping for air and to come back to earth.

 

King Dice breaks the silence.

 

“You’re terrifying,”

 

“I know.” The Devil is quiet.

 

“You’re amazing…” Dice also admits.

 

“ _I know.”_ The Devil smiles.

 

King Dice laughs at that.

 

The banter from there on is easy-going.

 

Dice makes a few comments about how the Devil practically owes him a new suit upon inspecting the damage done to his pants, gloves and jacket, to which the boss responds with a noncommittal grunt. They both share a smoke as they chat, and it’s an incredibly stark contrast to the love-making that had just transpired, (if you could even call it that.)

 

In the back of King Dice’s mind, he can’t help the feeling that, despite that feral, unhinged form, he hasn’t been shown the full spectrum of what it takes to please his boss.

 

He hopes that this wasn’t a one time affair. Hopes that his boss will allow him into his chamber once again, despite his warning that Dice would be the one with some feeling of regret.

 

“Were you scared?” The Devil asks.

 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Dice tries to sound nonchalant.

 

The Devil appears satisfied with that answer.  

 

“I’ll have to try harder next time.”

 

_Next time._

 

The sleazy manager can’t help the sheer delight beaming from his face.  The Devil rolls his eyes.

 

“Wipe that goofy grin off your mug,” the Devil says.  Dice ignores him, leaning in for a triumphant kiss, still beaming.

 

King Dice simply cannot _wait_ for next time.

  
**_~Thanks for reading~_ **

 


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